


You Say Goodbye (And I Say Hello)

by PuppyGuppy



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Brief mentions of Kairi, Dream Eater Link, First Kiss, M/M, Mild Angst, Pre-Relationship, bed sharing, nuthin' but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppyGuppy/pseuds/PuppyGuppy
Summary: "Did you have... bad dreams?""You'd know if I had, Riku."





	You Say Goodbye (And I Say Hello)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fireborn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireborn/gifts).

> This is basically just custom-cooked cotton candy softness, because a _certain someone_ got me in the mood. I also think about the day before the war A Lot. This fic was completely unplanned, but apparently needed, so I hope y'all enjoy it ❤️

Sora sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time, and blinked his heavy eyelids open. Sleep tended to be elusive on a  _ good  _ day (he had, on more than one embarrassing occasion, nearly fallen over from dozing while standing because of this), let alone a day like today; the calm before the storm. He should sleep. He'd been  _ trying  _ to sleep. He needed to be as rested as possible for the day ahead. And yet. 

And  _ yet.  _

Sora used to love sleep. As a kid, he used to take any opportunity to curl up on the sun-baked sand, lulled into a comfortable, fuzzy snooze by the gentle crash of waves and constant cry of gulls. He'd always dreamed he could  _ fly,  _ or breathe underwater. His mother always fretted about dehydration and sun burns, worried he'd die as a dried up sponge before he ever even reached adulthood, but he never listened; and here he was, as tan and alive as ever, and right on the cusp of adulthood. 

And possible, imminent  _ death.  _

No, no,  _ no,  _ he was just being  _ dramatic.  _ Not that death wasn't a constant, ever-looming possibility, but he hadn't died  _ yet.  _ And he  _ could  _ fly now! And he'd  _ done  _ it. He'd reharnessed the Power of Waking, helped Riku rescue Aqua from the Realm of Darkness, and even had  _ most  _ of his strength back. There was no way they were going to lose  _ now.  _ Not with their seven guardians. Creepy old man's prophecy be  _ damned.  _

Still, there was no weeding the seedlings of doubt that had sprouted in his heart. No shaking the feeling of  _ finality  _ from his bones that the day had put in them. Despite the fact that most of them had only  _ just _ met, or reconnected, a day ago, everything felt more like a  _ goodbye  _ than a hello. Not even necessarily a 'goodbye, because we might  _ die,'  _ but a goodbye because no one knew what was going to happen after tomorrow. 

Friendships were changing, some ending, some  _ beginning,  _ some just.  _ Changing _ . No one knew who they'd  _ be  _ after tomorrow, or where they'd go. And even though he was like,  _ ninety-nine  _ percent confident in himself and his answers, that niggling one percent was now keeping him up into the early hours of the morning.

That, and the fact his sleeping cycle had been fucked for  _ ages  _ now. Guess year long naps and Nightmare induced comas and days on end being fueled by nothing but adrenaline and  _ hope  _ would do that to a person. 

So he sighed, blinked and stared up at the moonlit ceiling of the treehouse. Most of the others had decided to row back inland, to the main island, where they could all shack up in one of the few motels Destiny Islands had to offer. He could have gone, too- gone and stayed with his mother, seen his family before tomorrow, but. He didn't need anymore  _ goodbyes.  _ Especially from people who didn't understand, no matter how hard they tried. And they didn't deserve the yo-yo of emotions sharing a life like his entailed, so he'd figured it was best to just hang back on the play islands, and the fewer people that knew he was there, the better. Which was a  _ big deal  _ for him; he loved seeing everyone, making sure they were all safe and happy and not missing him too much. Making sure they saw that  _ he  _ was happy. And he  _ was.  _

At least he  _ would  _ be. Once all of this was over. Once he and Riku and Kairi could all come back here and spar like they used to- when their hardest enemies were just  _ each other.  _ But, then, he wasn't even sure that's what  _ they  _ wanted. Deep down, he wasn't even sure if that's what  _ he  _ wanted. That one-percent like a thorn in his side, in his brain, in his  _ heart.  _ No, his thoughts of the future were murky at best, but there was one thing he was certain of. Technically  _ two  _ things, but one outshined the other, as loathe as he was to admit it, if only because he hated picking favorites. 

Bored of the ceiling, Sora rolled his head to the side, already-adjusted eyes easily finding the pale, almost glowing form of the only other person to have chosen to stay.

His best friend

_ Riku.  _

His ninety-nine percent. 

Sora wasn't sure  _ what  _ there'd be when all of this was over, but there'd definitely be Riku. Of course, he hoped for the best, tried to convince himself of his own optimism more than others that  _ everyone  _ would be there after the war, or whatever this was. And Kairi, gods, he really just wanted her to have a free life; one where she wasn't dragged down by his mess, or forgotten. She deserved better. And now she was  _ fighting  _ for better. Darkness should fear her  _ alone.  _

But she wasn't alone. None of them were. They all had each other now, he had  _ Riku.  _ They should have spent this day together, like they used to. But, there was that  _ feeling,  _ of too many things on the brink of changing, straining,  _ breaking _ , and Riku had preferred to spend his day alone with his thoughts, while Sora tried to be there for Kairi as best he could. Which really wasn't all that great, not when he couldn't help but keep looking at Riku,  _ checking,  _ asking about him, talking about him. But Kairi hadn't seemed to mind. Just shrugged and smiled softly, convinced Sora to just leave him be. That he was  _ okay.  _

But Sora didn't  _ want  _ to leave him be.  _ He  _ wasn't okay. Not really. He should have been with Riku from day one- they should have been on this journey  _ together.  _ They hadn't even gotten to be together during their Mark of Mastery exams. Not  _ really.  _ Sora had spent so much time just  _ looking for Riku,  _ and now he was here, and here was great, but there was also a part of him that… wanted to be not here, but  _ there.  _

Generally, there, with Riku,  _ always.  _

More specifically, he wanted to be  _ over  _ there, on Riku's bed, right now. 

He sighed again, unfurled his arms from beneath his head so as to drag his hands down his face, and frowned. He shouldn't bother Riku. Just because  _ he  _ couldn't sleep, just because  _ he  _ wasn't okay, didn't mean-

"Hey."

Sora felt his soul eject three feet out of his body in fear before crashing back down in a physical jolt that rocked his bed. He'd been so lost in thought, had drowned out the rolling drone of the nearby ocean and insects into silence, that the abrupt (though hushed) tone of his best friend's voice sent him  _ reeling;  _ for a split second, his edges sharpened, and his keyblade almost materialised on the familiar shot of panicked adrenalin sent coursing through his veins- but then his heart thumped, heavy and ecstatic upon recognizing the startle for what it  _ was. _

_ “Riku!”  _ He hissed, threw a hand over his galloping chest, and fixed a wild, pouty glare towards the other bed in the room. There was no malice in it, just ebbing disorientation and shock, mingled with the warm, friendly air of an occasional laugh. “ _ Geeze.  _ How did you even know I was awake?”

Riku wasn’t facing him. He was rolled onto his side, so all Sora could see was the pale, almost glow of his periwinkle gingham sleep shirt and almost-white hair. Still, he locked eyes on the place where Riku’s eyes would be, were he to turn around.

“Honestly? I got a hunch after the fifth sigh.”

Sora didn’t need to see Riku’s face to know the expression he’d be sporting; the bastard was probably trying not to laugh, most  _ definitely  _ rolling his eyes. Sora couldn’t even find it in himself to feel  _ bad  _ about, apparently, keeping his best friend awake, not when said best friend took  _ that  _ tone with him. But, before he could retaliate with some bratty response, Riku spoke up again-

But this time much  _ softer,  _ much  _ slower,  _ and Sora’s heart lodged its way into his throat.

“Did you have...bad dreams?”

Sora swallowed thickly, though it did nothing to ease the lump in his throat, or the urge from his heart to  _ cry.  _ There was guilt there, old and misplaced, and even if he hadn’t been able to hear it as clear as the night sky outside, he could see it in the way Riku’s shoulders tensed, could picture it in the way two hands probably formed fists.

Now Sora felt not only bad, but  _ beyond  _ bad. He’d kept Riku up, and now Riku was  _ sad.  _ Over something that hadn’t even happened yet. Because Sora hadn't slept  _ at all.  _ Even though it went unseen, he couldn’t help but reach out towards his friend, both physically with his hand, and metaphysically through The Link. 

_ The Link. _

Neither of them had had much time to explore that new facet of their friendship- the new depth of their undying devotion to each other. Or at least Riku to  _ him.  _ But, Sora had been quick to discover that, even in the Waking Realm, he had some connection to Riku as his Dream Eater, and some influence on the almost tangible chain between them. He didn’t use it  _ often-  _ didn’t want to hurt or annoy Riku, because above all else, Riku was still  _ Riku.  _ His own. Not a Master, not Sora’s Dream Eater, just  _ Riku.  _ And his best friend. And Sora, above all else, wanted to respect that. Wanted Riku to find comfort in that, and himself. That’s all he’d ever wanted.

Well,  _ almost  _ all he’d ever wanted.

But, sometimes, like now, he couldn’t help but use that unique bond to try and comfort Riku in every way he possibly could. 

“You’d know if I had, Riku.”

Sora’s tiny, soothing whisper travelled through the room like a gentle breeze, and he swore he could see it ruffle through Riku’s hair, then settle across his side like a warm blanket, evident in the shiver, then  _ droop  _ of broad back muscles. The room went quiet, quiet enough that the waves and the locusts filtered back into Sora’s ears, but the air was warm and wet with the ease of  _ home  _ again. Whether that was because of the islands or the company, he wasn’t about to deep dive into himself to find out. It didn’t matter. What mattered is that it was  _ almost  _ welcoming enough to lull him finally to slumber.  _ Almost.  _ He could feel it in the fuzziness around the corners of his thoughts and the dryness in the corners of his eyes. But, it wasn’t enough, and then even  _ less  _ so when something peeked around those same corners of his consciousness, shyly curled fingers around them and  _ pulled,  _ just so, a questioning hand seen only by his third eye.

It was impossible for Sora to ignore such a hesitant request, not when he wanted it, too. That last little something  _ else  _ to hopefully send them both to sleep.

So he shucked the blankets down to his ankles, grabbed his pillow, and crawled his way off the bed and over to Riku’s; only pausing to yawn and stretch out the life-long aches in his body. When he reached the bed, he didn’t hesitate- just plopped his pillow right next to Riku’s, lifted the blankets, and then plopped  _ himself  _ in right next to Riku. They used to do this all the time as kids, and for a few minutes, Sora lost himself to that specific chain of memories.

Late nights full of stories and giggles and stars and  _ Riku.  _ Blankets propped up on heads and books propped open with flashlights and chins propped up on elbows. Sora, with one arm around a stuffed teddy bear dressed as an astronaut, and Riku wrapped up around the other, covered in colorful plasters and as clingy and protective as the knights they pretended to be. Before Kairi had literally  _ landed  _ in their lives. When Riku’s affection had been given as freely and abundantly as the oxygen they breathed. Before...before  _ everything.  _

Sora used to wake up with his fingers still clasped in Riku’s, on the days their mothers couldn’t bare to disturb them.

It was then, Sora realized, that’s exactly what he wanted  _ now.  _ He wanted to dream of sword fights and dragons and princesses that weren’t  _ real.  _ He wanted to wake up tomorrow, slowly, to the searing, midday sun and Riku’s hand in his. Silently, his soul  _ begged,  _ begged for that kind of simplicity and clean conscience, and then begged for  _ air,  _ because he could no longer breathe. He was drowning in memories and the improbability of achieving such a life again, hyperventilating on  _ need  _ and his own plundering waves of guilt. Above him, the ceiling swirled, swam with wisps of  _ Darkness  _ darker than the midnight atmosphere, and when he blinked, no matter how hard, how  _ rapidly,  _ they didn’t go away. He couldn’t tell if they were real or not, if  _ any  _ of this was for real or not-

Beside him, Riku shifted. He rolled over until he, too, was staring up at the ceiling, and Sora didn’t  _ really  _ see this, but he registered it through his panicking peripherals, and the warmth slowly seeping into his side. It was like a life-raft thrown  _ just  _ out of reach; it gave him a moment’s pause, a breath of hope, some extra strength to fight his internal, eternal struggle. The Darkness didn’t dissipate, but it also didn’t grow. Sora could see a way out, if he could just  _ reach  _ it. So he focussed, didn’t even let himself blink again; concentrated on the heat radiating off of his best friend, and-

Had he always been this  _ warm? _

Sora tried to remember. Tried wracking his brain for some lost, long-forgotten, or maybe even  _ tampered-with  _ memory. But, even when he thought about the countless times they cuddled as children, he could  _ not  _ recall Riku ever feeling like the day-warmed, pretty stones he’d sometimes give him for beating him in a race. He still had those pretty stones, each and every one of them; tucked away safely in the various pockets of his bags and clothes, sorted into groups based on their likeness to their giver. A group of silvers, pewters, and blacks that reminded Sora of his hair and his journey. A group of reds, pinks, and purples that reminded Sora of his heart. A group of blues, aquamarines, and teals, and most recently,  _ emeralds,  _ that reminded Sora of his eyes.

The whirls above him were no longer Dark, but blue and silver and pink and green, whirls of  _ Riku,  _ and he was gasping on gulps of Light; he’d reached the life-raft, or it had reached  _ him,  _ floated on over until it brushed his thigh, a welcoming, desperate comfort. But then it was gone again, pulled away by the damn tide of  _ unsureness  _ and  _ friendship.  _ The ‘life-raft’ was Riku’s  _ hand,  _ and Sora wanted nothing more than those fingers to come back and wrap around him, any part of him,  _ all of him.  _ His thigh was left tingling in their wake, little sparks of pure sunlight shooting through the rippled cloth of his pajama pants and dancing across his skin. 

That was  _ new.  _

Well, not  _ new- _ new, but new enough to still be exciting.  _ Enticing  _ in a way spurred on by more than just memories of soothing snuggles. 

“Hey. You should stop thinking so much, it’s not like you.”

The life-raft was back, but this time surely and steadily pushed against his hand, and Sora didn’t hesitate to cling to it with a death-defying grip, as if each finger was oxygen-deprived, Light-deprived,  _ Riku-deprived.  _ But Riku squeezed back, and it felt like a shooting star burst up through his wrist, his words slow and muffled through the hot ringing in his ears. So, for a while, he just waded through the murkiness of his calming mind, clung to Riku’s hand as both the Dark and the Light disappeared from the ceiling and his eyes. Beside him, he felt Riku do the same, just  _ breathe.  _

And then Riku’s thumb started up a warm whirlpool of soothing circles across his knuckles, and Sora felt himself _pulled _again, by that flow across his fingers, by Riku’s gentle tease, and by the beckoning, uncontrollable call of the Link. Sora was a great swimmer (both with and _without _fins), so he knew better than to fight a riptide, especially a _Riku-Riptide, _thus he let his body go where his heart guided. 

Which ended up with him on top of his best friend, with a knee on either side of a hip. And for the first time, Sora actually looked at Riku, watched surprise, confusion,  _ cautious hope,  _ flash through green eyes, then settle into bemused composure. Watched the slow curl of a smirk and lift of an eyebrow. Watched two hands flex, form fists, on either side of his knees.

“Well, what’s this, then?” Riku’s voice hummed somewhere between a whisper and his normal, low, inside voice, and Sora decided he was quite fond of that octave. Then again, Sora was quite fond of any and all bits of Riku, especially the parts that no one else got to see.

His own smirk grew in response as naturally as sunflowers grow towards the sun. 

“I dunno. I’m doing what you told me to,  _ not thinking. _ You should try it, too, sometime.”

There was a pause, and the air between them  _ crackled,  _ as if in the beginnings of a tropical storm or Thundaga spell, some good ol’ friendly fire. Riku’s hands flexed again near his knees, hesitated, before palming up the sides of Sora’s legs, bunching up fabric as he went, until they rested,  _ perfectly,  _ around either of his thighs. He shuddered, squeezed his legs around Riku’s hips, felt caught somewhere between blushing and smirking even  _ cheekier.  _ What stuck on his face instead was a pout.

“ _ Touche.”  _

Riku was so  _ warm.  _ And solid, beneath him. Here, Sora felt more stable than he had on any type of ground,  _ ever.  _ But, Riku was always like that; supporting him, lifting him up, the fire under his feet, the wind under his wings, his happy thought, his best friend, his Dream Eater, the biggest,  _ brightest  _ Light in his Dark.

And he didn’t even know.

He didn’t even  _ know. _

“So uh, Kairi shared a paopu fruit with me today.” Okay, Sora could have  _ definitely  _ started that better, worded it differently, but it was the catch-twenty-two of him  _ not thinking.  _ And though Riku’s face didn’t falter, he didn’t miss the way blunt fingers dug into the muscles of his thighs. It was  _ distracting,  _ for a multitude of reasons. And made him a bit sluggish on the re-do, having to cut off Riku’s response with his own.

“Well, good for-”

“It’s wasn’t like  _ that.” _

Silence. Less like lightning, more like  _ thunder,  _ still as shocking; but deeper, thicker, and it sent either end of the Link  _ rattling  _ in the back of his mind and bones. Riku had taught Sora once that, the seconds you could count between booms was how many miles away the source of the sound actually was. It had used to make him feel better, when the normal, yearly monsoons of the islands scared him more than anything. But here, now, Sora had to question the science behind the fact, because the seconds stretched on while the source lay right in front of him. Eventually, he figured it was  _ his  _ turn to calm the storm.

“What- what I  _ meant  _ was, it was kind of weird. I wish you had been there. It felt  _ wrong  _ without you there. But Kairi, she...said you wanted to be alone.” Sora chewed on his bottom lip, anxiety creeping in, making him look away from his friend and down to the floor. He didn’t want to seem  _ needy,  _ didn’t want to overstep; Riku was allowed to cope however he needed to, and he already gave Sora  _ so much.  _ How could he  _ dare _ still need more?

A touch to his face had him gasping, startled, and flicking his eyes back over to Riku’s. It felt like the second clap of thunder,  _ right to his face,  _ and it stopped his heart, but he’d long lost count of the seconds between them. Not that it mattered when Riku’s hand slid soft and slow along his jaw like a trail of simmering coals, cupped his cheek, rested a thumb right below his left eye, where it carved out and lit it’s own firepit amongst his freckles. He suddenly felt dizzy from the inhalation of nonexistent summer smoke, wanted to blame invisible ash for the welling tears in that eye. He leaned into the beckoning burn, felt himself  _ melt  _ when green eyes softened, squinted, took him in with parted lips.

“You two hadn’t seen each other for a while. I thought Kairi might be more scared than she let on. I wanted you two to have some time.  _ Alone.  _ Neither of you have been together for longer than five minutes in a long time, Sora. I- had I known you  _ wanted  _ me there, I would have been.” Riku’s voice had dropped lower than before, back to a whisper, but this close, Sora could still hear every self-sacrificing, guilt-ridden word, and he  _ groaned.  _ Frustrated.

“_Riku, _I haven’t been with _you _for longer than five minutes, either. Of _course _I wanted you there, but not if _you _didn’t want to be. And that’s okay! If you didn’t. Want to be there…” _with me _was left unsaid, hanging off the edge of Sora’s own frantic whispers. The same edge his implied desire to have shared the paopu fruit with Riku hung off of. Great_, more _anxiety, causing him to twist his fingers into knots against Riku’s stomach, into his shirt. “At least it would have been a lot less _awkward _with you there.” And more like _this._

_ This  _ was comfortable, easy, like tumbling through a tepid tide. There were breathless moments of delirium, confusion over which way was up or down, but all he had to do was follow the bubbles, burst through the surf and burst into laughter and light and  _ salt.  _ A bit bitter but also a bit addicting; the water somehow warmer than the air, while his limbs and sand were thrown everywhere. Then after, shivering and reacclimating and giggling in a towel, ready for a nap. Then  _ after,  _ days after, lips chapped and sand still falling from his hair, it was worth it and kept him going back for more, more,  _ more.  _ This was like that.  _ Riku  _ was like that.

But, when Kairi had offered him the paopu fruit, it was like being dragged down by an unseen undercurrent, then dragged across grating, colorful corals; beautiful, yes, if perceived from the right angle, and that angle had been  _ wrong. Painful.  _ Kairi had then  _ seen  _ that, because Sora was far from the tactful gentleman, and a  _ terrible  _ liar. Tried to tilt his world back on its axis with a promise of nothing more than  _ friendship,  _ of a desire to be able to find each other no matter  _ what  _ happens after tomorrow. And how, really, it was just a silly myth, and they should at least  _ try  _ it. Once. And so they did, and that was that. That was that, that was  _ Kairi,  _ and the whole thing had kind of left a taste in his mouth far more sour than the fruit.

He wondered if it would have tasted any better with Riku.

Riku, who was gaping up at him a bit like a fish out of water, with wide eyes and a mouth that couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay shut or not and  _ had he said that out loud? _

_ Oh.  _ Well.

“S-Sora, I  _ wanted _ -” Riku started to speak, his words coming out in a desperate, halted rush. But the hand he still had on Sora’s face didn’t retreat, if anything, held just a  _ tad  _ tighter, and Sora took that as a good sign. A sign that Riku just needed a little help. And Sora was  _ always  _ there to help Riku.

“You  _ wanted…?”  _ He urged, eyebrows knitted together, attentive to his best friend’s face, ready to read whatever may cross it. Even if it hurt, even if it wasn’t what  _ he  _ wanted. He had a right to know, just as Riku had a right to know. They had a right to their  _ almost  _ goodbyes.

Riku didn’t answer him right away. He seemed to be thinking, long and hard, and Sora almost wanted to remind him that they weren’t  _ supposed  _ to be thinking right now. But, he let him have this. Let him figure out what he wanted to say, because this wasn’t just about  _ him,  _ it never was; he’d always wanted it to be about  _ them.  _ Sora was all about Riku, and by the end of the night, he would  _ know.  _ Because that was really what he needed, at the bottom of it all. More than he needed Riku, he needed Riku to  _ know.  _ Even if Riku wasn’t all about him.

“I just wanted you to be happy, Sora. I  _ want  _ you to be happy, I-” Riku paused, and Sora felt him  _ shaking,  _ felt it through the hand still on his face, or was  _ he _ the one shaking? And crying- was Riku almost  _ crying?  _ “ _ I  _ just want to make you happy.” Green eyes tore away from him, and the hand almost followed, but Sora was quick to grab it with both of his own and  _ keep it there. _

“Oh,  _ Riku.”  _ There was so much more he wanted to say, but it was so late, and they needed to  _ sleep _ , and they were running out of time, and though there was no star-shaped, destiny-entwining fruit around, Sora could think of only one other way he could get his feelings  _ across  _ to Riku. Because, apparently, he  _ still  _ didn’t know.

And that just wouldn’t do.

So he turned his head, slowly, not wanting to  _ scare  _ Riku, until his mouth was against his large, strong palm. Once there, he took a moment just to breathe and fix his eyes on Riku’s before pressing the chastest of kisses there, just a minute-long, gentle press of warmth. The restrained start of what could become a never-ending physical confession. Anything it took for Riku to  _ get it.  _ He’d give anything Riku wanted to take.

Riku’s eyelids fluttered, but Sora wasn’t sure if it was out of relief, enjoyment, or because he was still holding back tears. But he felt the pulse quicken in the wrist he held, and then the thumb on his cheek twitched as if shocked back to life, and started tracing the repetitive pattern of an infinity symbol there. Sora’s heart soared at the implications, whether intended or not,  _ forever, forever, forever. _

But forever might just be one more day.

Sora wasn’t about to let this chance slip through his fingers like seafoam. 

He released Riku’s wrist in favor of dropping his hands to Riku’s  _ neck,  _ where he gingerly, shyly slipped his fingers into silver strands of hair, until he could cradle either side of his best friend’s face in his palms. They were clammy, but he hoped that was okay, because it was just his heart crying through his hands, needing to  _ touch,  _ and at least they were warm. But if Riku didn’t understand how  _ in love  _ with him he was yet, that probably went right over his dense, beautiful head, too.

He felt Riku’s pulse again, doubly so, rushing rapids beneath each thumb, along with the slow gulp that almost got stuck in his throat. Slowly, Sora inched down and forwards, flicked his eyes from wide, wet eyes to parted, pink lips. He tried not to fixate on the feeling of the other hand finally falling off his thigh, or the warmth it took with it. There was still one hand on his face, loose but following, and as he continued to close the distance between them, he could feel the encroaching rumble of a soul-shattering, sky-shredding clap of thunder. The kind that ushered in typhoons. 

But, just inches away from his proverbial epicenter, he was stopped. By Riku’s hand, which had slid from the side of his face to directly against his mouth. Caught off guard, he blinked, huffed out a warm exhale of mild annoyance at being  _ denied  _ his one, possibly-dying wish, but then he took in Riku’s expression and-

“ _ Don’t.” _

There was so much  _ fear.  _ And  _ hope.  _ Riku was still shaking, and now his  _ voice  _ was shaking, too. He looked how Sora had felt earlier, knitted brows, darting eyes, before he’d been thrown a life-raft. Sora wanted to rescue him, couldn’t believe he was the reason Riku was now drowning, but he also  _ needed to know. _

“Riku-”

“Don’t kiss me just because you think the world is ending.” For someone so  _ big,  _ he sounded so  _ small.  _ Smaller than even Sora felt most of the time.

If Sora hadn't already wanted to kiss Riku every minute of every day, he certainly wanted to kiss him  _ now.  _ Kiss his belief, his trust, his love into Riku, kiss him until he felt as tall as he was again. Kiss a different kind of plea out of those lips, one just as desperate, but reversed. Because, for all he knew, the world  _ could  _ be ending. And he figured they deserved to at least die happy.

“But  _ Riku,  _ I lo-” Denied a kiss, he opted for his words, but even  _ those  _ were cut off by another firm press of fingers over his mouth.

This time he  _ whined.  _ Petty and pouty against his best friend’s hand, while his fingers twitched against his face.

“ _ I know.” _

Sora inhaled sharply, stared down at Riku, who stared right back up at him. There was still fear there, and hope, but also the intensity of a fully-realized notion. He was no longer shaking, and his eyes had gone as hard and glossy as Sora’s favorite stone, glinting with filtered starlight. Briefly, Sora wondered if this is how he’d looked when protecting Sora, when facing off with his Darkness, his Nightmare. No wonder Riku was so good at his job. It was breathtaking, bone-chilling, and right now,  _ it was all for Sora. _

_ He  _ was all for Sora.

He  _ knew. _

Then  _ why-? _

“I know, Sora. And that’s why I can’t let you kiss me.  _ Not yet.  _ Kiss me once it’s over. Once we’ve won.” Sora hardly had time to process  _ that  _ before Riku moved his hand away from his mouth, slid it along his neck and back behind his head, to then press him down, ear against his chest. He went, dazed but pliantly, and soon his head was filled with the steady, hard bass of a beautiful, familiar heart and it’s song. A song he’d tried not to hope to hear ever again outside of his dreams. A song for  _ him. _ It figured Riku’s half sounded so-

Just.  _ So.  _

He mimicked the tune with his fingertips, gently tapped it against the skin of Riku’s jaw and behind his ears. Though he’d only performed it  _ once,  _ his body already had it and it’s two halves committed down to muscle memory. It was a relieving fidget, one that helped him figure out exactly what this  _ meant,  _ and where to go from here.

Riku  _ wanted  _ him to kiss him. Just. Not  _ yet.  _ Because he wanted to wait until after everything was over. Because he thought they would  _ win.  _ Or because...he thought Sora only wanted to kiss him because he thought they  _ weren’t  _ going to win. Which hurt, because it was  _ true.  _ But also because it was the furthest it could possibly be from the truth. Sora had wanted to kiss Riku for  _ years.  _ They’d just never had the  _ chance. _

And when they did, Riku was always giving him time with Kairi. Because he thought she made him happy. 

It really  _ was  _ Riku who needed to stop thinking so much.

“How can you be so sure we’ll win?” The whisper was moreso meant for himself, Riku’s over-thinking apparently contagious, but Riku still heard him.

“Because we  _ always  _ win, Sora.” Riku was back to his low, inside voice, and it vibrated pleasantly through Sora’s fingers. 

Sora sighed, long and heavy, much like the ones that had kept his friend awake, then nuzzled his cheek against his chest. “Then why doesn’t it  _ feel  _ like it.” It wasn’t a question, just a flat fact. It  _ didn’t  _ feel like they’d won anything. Not yet. Not with the constant running, hiding, heartbreak. If they felt like winners, they wouldn’t have all said their  _ goodbyes  _ today.

Because, who was he kidding, that’s what they were.

And he needed to say goodbye to Riku.

Thick, large arms wrapped around his back, pulled him even closer to his chest, and Sora struggled against the first, stuttering breaths of a sob. Futilely, he tried to keep the tears at bay by rubbing his face into Riku’s chest again; then, less chaste but just as lingering, placed an open-mouthed kiss right above his heart, where it dampened and stuck to the fabric of his shirt. 

He relished in the feeling of a beat against his lips, as if his soul was trying to kiss him back through so many layers of  _ body  _ and clothing. Riku  _ wanted  _ this. Sora knew he did.

“Riku, Riku  _ please.”  _ He’d kissed him once, kissed him  _ twice;  _ just two kisses deep in Riku, and he was ready to dive head first and heart first into the waters of  _ more  _ that had been lapping at his ankles for so long. But he wanted Riku there,  _ right there with him,  _ holding his hand and diving, too. They’d been diving  _ for  _ each other,  _ into  _ each other, but never  _ with  _ each other.

The arms around him  _ squeezed,  _ but Riku said nothing, so he cautiously lifted his head up until he could look at him again. Riku was chewing his bottom lip, but staring at him like he might  _ snap.  _ Sora wanted nothing more than to be crushed in the weight of that rush.

“Riku,  _ please.  _ Just.  _ Kiss me.  _ I-” Sora had thought this had been about showing  _ Riku.  _ But maybe he was more selfish than he thought. “ _ I need to know.”  _ But Riku had said he just wanted him happy, wanted to  _ make  _ him happy, and he had to know if kissing Riku would do just that. And hey, if Sora was happy, he guessed that made  _ Riku  _ happy.

The only win-win he could see them achieving within the next twenty-four hours.

Riku  _ groaned,  _ the sound much like the wooden planks of the pier under the pressurized pull of a tsunami, and it was the only warning Sora got, the last deep breath before the plunge into-

_ Perfection. _

Kissing Riku was  _ perfect. _

And tasted better than a paopu fruit. 

All at once Sora understood how it could put a stopper on death; how it could end eternal slumbers, eternal winters, strengthen the gods. All at once Sora understood why people went to war over it, for it, against it. Why so many people  _ lived  _ for it. Sora had thought he understood love before, but  _ true love? _

He hadn’t known  _ anything  _ until this kiss. 

There was so much  _ Light  _ pressed into him through the Link, so much  _ promise  _ pressed into him through Riku's tongue, so much  _ devotion _ pressed into him through hands somehow cradling  _ and  _ crushing his head, and then so much  _ heat  _ pressed into him through a shifted lift of hips. 

He had to pull away to  _ laugh,  _ because he felt suddenly so much bigger on the inside, like somewhere in him ice caps had melted and now the excess of warming water needed somewhere to  _ go.  _ They'd probably melted at the same time kissing Riku had lapsed into  _ making out  _ with Riku. Sora had never been the patient one, though it seemed he'd finally found where even  _ Master Riku's  _ resolve wavered. And to think, had there been no war, they could have been doing this  _ forever _ ago. Heck, their whole damn lives, probably! And that thought-

That thought had determination settling hot and hard in his belly. Amongst other things. 

He laughed again, wild and free, but this time Riku joined in, and the sporadic rhythm of his chest sent Sora bouncing; though his laughter was much more warm, and  _ wet.  _ He was  _ crying.  _ But smiling. Better yet,  _ grinning.  _ Sora felt like the Sun, because somehow the Moon was in bed with him, beaming at him, and the tide between them chopped,  _ pushed _ just as much as it  _ pulled _ . There were fingers in his hair, tickling but not unpleasant, while his own hands set about deftly wiping the glistening tears from Riku's cheeks. 

Sora had only seen him cry once before, at the closing of a door. But this had blown every door, window and gate wide  _ open.  _ Still, he had to make sure, had to  _ know.  _

"How? How are you feeling? Are you okay?" He realised, a little too late, that it was probably silly to brush off Riku's face, when more and more tears just kept falling, down his cheeks and down his chin and onto his pillow. 

"I feel like I could take on  _ a hundred  _ Demon Tides for you." Riku sniffed,  _ blushed,  _ then laughed a little bit again. But his eyes were all squinty and soft again, and so  _ green  _ amidst the pink of his skin. 

" _ Good.  _ You just might have to. Meanwhile I'll throttle Xehanort with my  _ bare fists  _ if it means I get to kiss you again. Which I will. Now.  _ And  _ after we win." When Sora met Riku in another kiss, it was more a smashing of smiles than anything else, which was probably a  _ good  _ thing. It made them slow down, kept them from finding out what pre-apoctalyptic sex might be like. They had to leave  _ something  _ to celebrate with after the war, and at their combined pace of absolute impatience, that's probably  _ exactly  _ what they were going to do. 

For now though, at least they managed to kiss themselves into a sleepy stupor; Sora eventually succumbing to the inevitable after yawning into Riku's mouth for the fifth or so time. Together, they snuggled up much the same way they'd already been, with Sora on Riku's chest, legs tangled, hands in hair, and hearts in tune. 

This no longer felt like an 'almost goodbye'. This no longer sounded like a death march. Instead, it felt like,  _ finally hello.  _ And they both fell asleep to the rhythm of a war drum. 

**Author's Note:**

> my soriku kisses always happen in threes now


End file.
